Only an Ensign: A Tale of the Retreat from Cabul, Volume 3 (of 3)Grant, James
General
Only an Ensign: A Tale of the Retreat from Cabul, Volume 3 (of 3)
Grant, James
Afghan Wars -- Fiction
At a quick pace he crossed the arid desert that surrounds the city,
and ascended into the well-wooded and magnificent mountain ranges
that rise all around it, but more especially to the westward, whither
his route lay, and his spirits rose as his party spurred onward.
"What pleasure there is in a gallop!" says Paul Ferroll; "the object
is before one, at which to arrive quickly; the still air becomes a
wind marking the swiftness of one's pace--the fleet horse is his own
master, yet one's slave; the bodily employment leaves care, thought,
and time behind. One feels the pleasure of danger, because there
might be danger, and yet there may be none."
So thought Waller, as he careered at the head of his party, with a
cigar between his teeth, the which to keep alight while riding at
full speed, he had previously dipped in saltpetre, a camp-fashion
peculiar to India.
Candahar is distant from Jellalabad two hundred and seventy British
miles, and, considering the state of the whole country, the
undertaking, at the head of twenty horse, was a brave and arduous
one; but Waller confidently set out on his expedition, after having
carefully inspected his escort of picked men, and personally examined
their arms, ammunition, and saddlery, as he knew not whom they might
meet, or have to encounter.
By a curious coincidence, on the very day he bade adieu to his
brother-officer, Audley Trevelyan, and other friends, to urge and
effect a junction of the forces, a fresh and loud burst of
indignation against the now-desponding Indian Executive was excited
in the minds of Sale's troops by the arrival of a messenger with a
startling proposal from the Governor-General, Auckland, to the effect
that Jellalabad was _not_ a place to retain any longer; that a
retreat was to be made from there to Peshawur; that, in effect, the
whole of Afghanistan was to be--as Ackbar Khan wished it--abandoned
by our forces, and that the helpless women and children, wounded and
sick, at Cabul, were to be left at the mercy of irresponsible
barbarians until rescued by quiet negotiations or a judicious
distribution of money; and thus to have peace at any price, leaving
our disgraces without remedy, our revenge unaccomplished, and our
prestige destroyed--in that quarter of the world at least!
Even the English women who were captives in Afghanistan knew better
than this; for, amid the earnest prayers which they put up for their
liberation, they ever seemed to know that it was "not to be obtained
by negotiation and ransom, _but by hard fighting_," and they had more
trust in the bayonets of Sale's Brigade than in all the diplomatists
in London or Calcutta.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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